


breathe life

by dontstraytoofar



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Soulmate AU, can these two leave me alone pls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7346083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstraytoofar/pseuds/dontstraytoofar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>soulmate au: "I’ve met you in every single lifetime and I always hope it will work out. but it doesn’t. I lose you. yet I’ll still keep finding you again and again and again until it kills me"</p>
            </blockquote>





	breathe life

**Author's Note:**

> this is my retaliation after THAT episode. I’m still shipping these two, till death do us part! (or something like that) 
> 
> all mistake are mine. i don’t own anything. 
> 
> ps inspired by jack garrets ‘breathe’

 

She is soft, and warm, and Sansa without ever doubting it  _ knows  _ now, the taste of wine like water. 

She knows that her lips mirror Margaery’s, and that corsets and lace have never felt more constricting. She thinks of Lady Margaery’s lips like a rose's’ petals and her tongue the thorns. Sansa holds to the other womans elbows as she feels her knees weaken, as she feels cool stone meet her back and a climbing vine coil in her hair.

And Margaery smiles against their lips, like she holds a  _ magnificent  _ secret.

Sansa will never tire of this, she will never forget the taste of her lips, the feel of her loves skin. Be she eternal for life or for the years she knows Margaery it doesn’t matter. For she is in  _ love  _ for the 5th time.

Sansa isn’t worried that she herself is the close guarded secret, she’s not even worried that the gardens aren’t the most  _ secretive  _ of places. She’s too busy focusing on the thumb that tickles the inside of her elbow, making her giggle.  

 She whispers against the other womans neck almost scandalisingly. “Margaery…”

Her lover's lips form a smirk as Margaery pulls back slightly with a faux gasp. “Don’t tell me my sweetling is ticklish?” To punctuate her words Margaery teasingly glides her finger under Sansa’s right breast, just above her ribs, and it causes the most warmest blush to spread over Sansa’s cheeks.

 “You’re devilish, you know that?” It’s whispered against Margaery’s mouth as they meet once again in the middle, with the older woman letting her finger glide down a still covered stomach all the way to the apex of Sansa’s thigh, lifting it so it hooks around Margaery’s hips.

It causes Sansa to let a small gasp out, her body instinctively pushing further into Margaery’s touch as she smirks. “And twice as clever my sweet”

They move like that, Sansa lost in Margaery’s lips as she lets her hand glide up underneath Sansa’s dress things, touching so softly and tenderly making the younger woman giggle at it all. Margaery grins against her pale lips, and Sansa feels young again. Like nothing was stolen from her and it’s just her and Margaery and the gardens and infinite moments stretched out before them to touch.

Sansa moans at her lover's’ ministrations, loud enough for her to blush at her own desire.

 “Marg, we could be caught-”

She is silenced by Margaery’s lips, and the decisive squeeze of her breasts that makes her gasp. She slowly, ever so torturously, glides her lips up Sansa’s neck, to bite lightly down on the red heads earlobe and whisper. “Hush my sweet wolf, we’re just getting started”

And Sansa sees stars as she dips her head back, biting her lip and gasping at Margaery’s touch. The woman below her looks up, and can only  _ just  _ contain her moan at the sight of Sansa coming undone.

Both their heads snap to each other at the call of “ _ M’ladies! Are you out here!?”  _ and they both barely contain their giggles as Margaery nearly slips and falls at her startle, Sansa tightening her leg around her hips so they don’t tumble to the leaf littered ground. Sansa is  _ sure _ she’s never smiled this wide before as they dress one another and bunch the end of their skirts up, hiding behind rose bushes and breathing heavily, chests heaving and cheeks rosey.

The footsteps of the guards fade away, and Sansa peeks around the bush just incase any linger. She finds no one, not a guard in sight, and breathlessly laughs as she turns back around. “Margaery that was  _ so  _ close! We-”

But as she turns around from the bush to jokingly frown and tease her love, to smile and watch how the sun catches Margaery’s hair, Sansa is met with her lips already upon hers. And she melts into it, feels and succumbs to how Margaery pulls her by the waist so their fronts collide. Both woman smiling breathlessly into the kiss from heavy gowns and beating hearts.

 Sansa pulls back first, only just to let her fingers softly trail down Margaery's jaw. “I’ve never felt this free before”

Margaery frowns slightly, and touches her collarbone with feather like touches, kissing the space between Sansa’s eyebrows so softly Sansa thinks she imagined the light caress of petals. Roses surround them, and Sansa wants to drown in the smell of Margaery and the feeling of bliss. She nought to grab too tightly to this feeling, most things she loves are torn from her.

Ripped and made to bleed as she watches.

But Margaery, she isn’t a  _ thing,  _ nay a possession.

She is something other worldly to Sansa. So kind..so,  _ gentle. _

Yet, like clockwork, and she will not know when, Margaery shall fall. Sansa will lose her soul yet again.

The young Stark buries her face in Margaery’s neck, and Margaery nearly buckles at the cool feeling of tears from her young wolf that meet her skin.

 “Sansa? Sweetling, what troubles you?” Margaery’s fingers stroke through her hair, easing her to face the older womans soft and worried gaze. She kisses the tears away, and cradles Sansa’s face like glass. And Sansa is in awe, she is in breathless awe. She is in untimely love and her eyes are glassy just  _ thinking  _ of the woman across from her because-

 “We should run away together. Me and you. Would you like that?”

It’s such a flash to their first conversation that Margaery’s lips slowly form a smile at Sansa’s words, and she lets her palm touch at her sweet Sansa’s cheek. She kisses the skin there, and answers. Watching how Sansa’s eyes reflect her vulnerability in her admission, but she chuckles delightfully and pulls back.

 “Sansa, you know the answer to that already love”

But Sansa’s youth shows then, in between a drawn in lip and tear glossed eyes. “I know. But I’d very much like to hear it”

Margaery searches her eyes, and finds nothing but pure devotion and loyalty that it steals the breath from her very lungs. It makes her surge forward, capturing Sansa in the thousandth kiss that evening.

 “Yes Sansa, more than anything”

It’s enough. It’s  _ more  _ than enough. And they let the roses surrounding them engulf their bodies in a soft and warm embrace.

In their last meeting, it took 405 days for Margaery to fall.

Sansa has known her for 201, and she cherishes the days until her heart breaks again.

  
  
  


 

At dinners they are secretive smiles and glances across neverending tables, the wolf and her rose are smiles hidden behind chalices and blushes from the lit candles. On passing to excuse herself, Margaery walks past Sansa and her fingers are like a soaring fire against the back of her neck. Margaery scratches lightly at the base, revelling in Sansa’s smooth and pale skin. 

Yet, just like that _ ,  _ the warmth is gone.

Although, the touch is a beautiful promise that hides behind Margaery’s green lit eyes. Sansa is merely left to drown her blush in wine, and swallow her beating heart at the thought of her lovers searing touch.  

  
  
  
  


 

An arrow. A piercing tip, dipped in venom.  

Sansa remembers as the sun like gold against Margaery’s cheeks. Both woman are elbows hooked, laughs and light kisses as the light streams through the trees. And Sansa feels at peace for the first time in her life because Margaery’s hands drawing patterns on the inside of her wrist make her forget every horror of the world. Every wrong doing.

Yet hooves cradle the ground on which they stand, and it’s a distant rumble and cry of men that has Margaery pull back slightly from Sansa’s lips, the cutest frown marring her features as she pouts.

 “Whomever is interrupting us will surely-”

Yet Sansa  _ knows, oh god  _ does she know the smell of death. And her eyes widen, breath stops, her heart bends against her ribcage as she grabs for Margaery’s wrist, her mouth open with tears already at the edge of her vision as her voice catches up with her movements.

The arrow is sprung from a knights brandished bow. And It’s all so  _ slow,  _ so definite the sound is as it buries into her lover's spine.

It makes it’s home, and with it, Sansa’s own disappears.

 “Margaery!”

She falls into her open arms. Sansa is never ready, never is she prepared.

_ Never. _

 “S-Sansa…?”

And the young girl cradles her, weeps into her blood stained chest and tries not to rip the arrow from her back with a guttural cry. “Margaery...Margaery.” Her lips tremble, tears mix with her sobs. “No no  _ please  _ no. Not again. Oh gods, _ please _ ”

She feels a wet palm against her cheek, a strand of her hair is twirled so softly in Margaery’s fingers. And Sansa is forced to open her eyes and stare into her green sunrise as Margaery coughs once, blood dripping from the corner of her lips. Lips she once smoothed over with her own in loving embraces.

Her hands fist into her rose’s dress; desperate, pleading.  _ Don’t go. Don’t  _ **_leave_ ** _ me. You’re all I have.  _

And the arrow lies dormant, until Sansa meets her again.

  
  
  
  
  


  1. _London._



 “Pardon. Do you work here?”

Sansa’s tired gaze blinks once, too enamoured with her quill and paper to look up towards the honey dripped voice. The hotel she owns and its patrons names are almost seared into her brain as she tallies their pay. Her corset is digging into her ribs as she bends over, a stray curl of her hair dangles in front of her eyelash.

Yet Sansa looks up towards the woman in front of her, blinking once again to rid of her sleepy haze, and tugging that piece of hair behind her ear.

But _ oh gods those emerald eyes _ . 

She  _ knows  _ them. She has to catch herself from gasping out loud, to stop the breath from leaving her lungs.

And god does she  _ smile  _ when she sees her. It’s been 135 years since they last met, a ship and the sea and two lovers on course to another land. Yet her Margaery is  _ here,  _ she is breathing and mortal and smiling politely with a dimple in her left cheek. She leans on the desk, arms folded, hair high. And Sansa falls again for those kind eyes and smooth skin as she speaks again.

 “Me and my husband are renting a room. Is a top floor too much to ask?”

Sansa’s breath stops short, and she swallows a hundred years worth of love.

She smiles politely, prints the image of Margaery to the forefront of her mind, and her hands shake as she says. “Of course Mar- _ Miss”  _ Her lips only just catching the words.

And she slides the top floor key across the counter, so carelessly, as if it were her own heart.

  
  
  


_ 1939 _

 

 “You’re  _ American?” _

A blink, and the coffee pot Margaery holds swishes as the woman above Sansa laughs. “This is New York sugar, you don’t come here often, do you?”

Sansa blushes, and even if it’s been a millenia and a half of knowing her, her cheeks still flame from that voice, no matter the accent. Margaery, doned in a waitresses uniform, pours another coffee for the delightful red head and smirks.

 “Judging from that accent, you from across the pond?”

Sansa smiles back, and falls again and again and again for the way Margaery’s eyes can drown her. “Yes, something like that”

Never mind she has been  _ everywhere,  _ Sansa has seen the farest corners of the earth searching for the woman across from her. Margaery smiles, looks back and forth for her lurking boss before sitting down, and leans over the booth table eagerly. Sansa smiles behind her coffee cup.

 “Tell me  _ all  _ about England. Heard the girls there are as fair as its boys,” A wink is accompanied, and Sansa chuckles at the way her Margery is still sly gestures and warmth all wrapped up in one. “Also,” Margaery frowns and reaches for Sansa’s hair, which is straight and long and  _ so  _ not bobbed or curled. “You got strange hair for a lady so drop dead gorgeous”

Sansa rolls her eyes, and her Margaery is still her Margaery.

They exchange landline numbers, and Margaery comments how the apartment owner she rents from is getting evicted. She says it all with a brush off and a million dollar smile, but Sansa can’t stop the words before they escape her lips.

 “I have a two bedroom apartment downtown. You could always move in with me?”

She blinks, and her  _ blonde  _ (Sansa’s still getting used to that one) pinned curls bounce as she laughs with a bemused shake of her head. “We’ve only just met! That would be a bit presumptuous of me to just move in, don’t ya think?”

But Sansa just shrugs, and her dimples can be seen behind her coffee mug. “Not at all actually” And it makes Margaery raise an eyebrow,  _ actually  _ considering the offer. Sansa smiles, and five minutes later on her third mug of coffee Margaery perks up and interrupts Sansa mid way conversation. Making the redheaded woman jump slightly.

“Oh hell, downtown you say?”

And they move in the next week and Sansa blushes more than she can take at the way Margaery takes her stockings off with not a care in the world after work. The way they drink wine late at night and Margaery comments how  _ familiar  _ the blue of Sansa’s eyes are. How beautiful and oceanic, how Margaery could drown in them.

And they kiss. They kiss, and they kiss and they kiss. And the next day Margaery enlists to do nurse training, because America is at war and the way she holds to Sansa’s cheeks when they get the letter makes it feel like she never wants to leave. Like her home is Sansa’s touch.

Sansa is getting  _ tired  _ of tears.

She kisses Margaery until the letter slips from her grip. And whispers.

 “Don’t go”

Margaery leaves, and she  _ promises  _ she’ll be back in 3 months with all kinds of gifts as she packs her bag with a wink and a smile.

The letter of her death comes six months later and the ink in the words  _ “-very sorry to inform you” _ runs down the page at Sansa’s tears. She falls to her knees and holds her stomach, sick with pain.

Is  _ this  _ her life now? Was once not enough? She longs to be able to hold her love, like the roses and the trees of so many a millenia ago. Her hands goes to her mouth, silencing her heaving breaths. Her rib breaking sobs.

It’s another 77 years until Sansa sees her green horizon again. 

  
  
  


 

_ 2016- Present- England _

  
  


This life seems different, it seems  _ final.  _

Or maybe final is another word for  _ holy shit I can’t breathe and I can’t feel my legs and is this what death finally feels like? _

 “Oh my  _ god! _ I’m, I-I-I don’t know what to do. Oh god, oh god”

Sansa, with blurry eyes and a wince watches how Margaery, curly classic brown hair and accent, above her falls to the asphalt next to her, kneeling and cupping her head. Sansa’s red hair is even more crimson as her own blood seeps through the gash on her forehead.

 “Are you alright? Can you feel my hands? Miss?”

A tear from the woman above her lands on her cheek, and Sansa winces as she feels the pain once again ride up her spine and chest. She’s never been hit by a car before,  _ that  _ is new. Yet being run over by your soulmate? Sansa chuckles at the irony of it all, but all it garners is a cough and chest wracking wheeze, making Margaery widen her eyes and yell to the forming crowd with a type of urgency Sansa has never heard from her loves lips.

 “Call triple 9! She’s injured!” Sansa feels the hands underneath the back of her head relax, and soothe the roaring pain in her skull. In her blurry vision she watches Margaery’s gaze flicker back to hers, and the green of her eyes is soaked in remorse. “It’s going to be alright. Ambulance will be here soon.”

Those soft hands and fingers glide across Sansa’s neck and it makes her close her eyes, so softly. Thinking of roses, long walks, the smell of her hair and perfume. Those late night coffees at the laundromat. It makes her smile, and it doesn’t matter Margaery may think she has a concussion (which,  _ yes _ may be true) but she’s  _ here.  _ Hovering over her with hands that have held her heart for centuries; and all Sansa cares about is the fact it’s  _ herself  _ nearly dying, and not Margaery.

It’s a nice change.

Sansa, in that moment, wouldn’t rule out being hit a thousand times more if it meant Margaery could breathe and live and keep stroking the sensitive part at the base of her neck. 

Just as her eyes close, Margaery’s hands fall to hers. Gripping. And Sansa hears her colourful British tongue. She wishes to just dart up and silence her with a kiss, to ease her worries and her stuttering voice falling over Sansa like the softest of snow.

 “I’m _so_ sorry. I-I didn’t see you, and there was ice on the road and my car has _terrible_ tread and oh fuck I’ve been needing to fix that. Oh god I _ran_ over a woman! I fucking ran you over! Holy shit holy shit. Oh my god and you’re also the definition of a goddess and-” Sansa feels the grip on her hands tighten, Margaery wincing and rolling her eyes at her own words leaving her mouth. -”and now I’m bloody well _flirting_ with a concussed girl and oh my god Miss, I am so sorry”

Sansa chuckles, her laughing silenced slightly by the not too distant ambulance sirens. “It’s alright, really”

Yeah her spine is on fire and her head feels like a blender but seeing Margaery is kinda making her loopy with love.

Or you know, it’s her blender head.

Margaery widens her eyes, and her mouth slightly opens. An eyebrow rising as she scoffs lightly, her hand never leaves Sansa’s. Margaery briefly wonders just how hard the woman below her hit her head.

_ Is this woman okay? _

 “Oh uh, I’m not sure if you’re aware, or if you hit your head too hard, but I ran you over...” Margaery pauses, and glances back to her car with a slight dint in the front. Everything that’s happened suddenly dawning on her “....oh my  _ god  _ with my  _ car.” _

Sansa winces at her voice, everything's so  _ loud.  _ Does her head usually pound like this? The ambulance’s sirens as it pulls up are blaring inside of her skull, and the paramedics rushing over with thick boots on the cement feels like bullets ricocheting in her mind.

 “Uh, Margaery? Voice. Loud. Brain. Blender”

She feels, rather than see’s, Margaery’s amused smile as she shuts her lips. But it slowly dissolves to a confused frown as she looks to the goddess below her. To the blue of her eyes and to the sunrise red of her hair and Margaery has a moment where she swears she’s kissed those lips before. Where she can imagine her and this woman under rose bushes, whispering, touching, until the world falls away.

But for some reason, Margaery focuses on;

 “Wait. How do you know my name?”  __

_ Fuck. Shit. Really Sansa? _

 “Uhh, n-nametag?” Sansa stutters.  _ Wow _ . She’s several millenia years old and she’s  _ stuttering? _

Margaery raises an eyebrow and doesn’t even need to point out the obvious as she deadpans. “Miss, I’m not wearing a nametag. Unless you’re psychic-”

 “Excuse me mam, are you her significant other and/or sibling?”

A paramedic comes up behind them both, effectively cutting off Margaery’s next words. She’s still kneeling, holding to Sansa’s hand tightly. But Margaery clears her throat and stands up, brushing her knees as she rises and it’s immediate the loss of warmth as her hands separates from Sansa’s.

 “No I’m-” She watches as the other woman is raised into the gurney, and Margaery turns back around to an impatient foot tapping paramedic, sighing as watches Sansa’s body be lifted up into the ambulance.“I’m just the woman who ran her over actually”

She can see the redheaded woman’s soft blue eyes close and Margaery nearly follows because she’s  _ felt  _ that touch before, she’s seen that gaze and she swears the other woman’s voice has met her ears sometime in her life.

She wonders briefly of a rose lit garden, thorns and petals in the form of kisses. Margaery bites her lip and runs her hand through her hair in worry, confusion, yet also curiosity.

Because the woman has the tide of Margaery’s breathing all but washed, and said her name as if she’s said it a thousand times before.

  
  
  
  


 

_  “Hey, it’s Margaery. Margaery Tyrell. Stupid woman who ran you over? If you miss this call that’s totally reasonable, just..it would be nice to hear from you? I stole your number from the paramedics because I’m a stalker like that and also because I feel like the worst human alive. Ever. In the history of humans. And I’m rambling. Sorry.”  _

Sansa hears a few beats of silence, and her heart hangs on a string waiting for Margaery’s next word on her phone's voicemail. She hears a sigh mixed with a laugh and it’s so  _ good  _ just to hear her voice.

 " _You know what? Screw it. I’ll be over to visit tomorrow. And mark my words Sansa Stark, you’re going to be pampered like a princess”_

She laughs at Margaery’s joking tone, and hears the dial click as the message ends.

She thinks of the Margaery she met in 1939, the one who said the same and they fell in love under hazy New York street lights and cheesy romance films. And Sansa realises how this whole time, the lifetime she has spent, she never really  _ knew  _ the real Margaery.

Hundreds upon hundreds of years spent, between roses and kings and oh gosh the  _ heartache  _ spent chasing a woman who was never just  _ one  _ version of herself.

Sansa looks out to the street lit horizon from her hospital bed, one streaked in gold, and imagines Margaery stretched out like the sun. Infinite.

Margaery is _ every  _ Margaery. Every version and every voice and every inhabitable body.

Sansa closes her eyes and smiles. She sleeps to the knowledge she has loved every single one, and every possible futures.

 


End file.
